Until
by QuickSpinner
Summary: One shot set during the Act II Questioning Beliefs conversation. F!Hawke/Fenris


_Author's note: Thank you for reading. I've been out of the fanfic game for a while, but I hope you will enjoy what I have to offer._

**UNTIL**_  
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There are some words that you know have the capacity to change your life. "I love you." "I hate you." "Goodbye." "Die." All heavy with meaning, all carrying the potential to alter your course forever.

He hasn't used any of those words, but my hands are suddenly clenched in my lap, my breath is short, and my stomach feels like it's dropped into the basement. The words he used were simple, ordinary, but his eyes on me are anything but. Two words that have completely changed the tenor of our conversation - the tenor of our friendship.

"Until now." Those simple little words have reversed everything that came before. "I don't need anyone. I don't want anyone," suddenly becomes "I need you. I want you." And now I'm dangling over the edge of something I don't fully understand, and it's my choice whether to leap into the abyss or cling tightly to solid ground. And I'm not even sure which choice leads to which.

This should be simple. He wants me. I want him. I know this with a certainty that sets my flesh on fire. I won't deny some of it is the thrill of the chase, the joy of conquering his considerable resistance, the intoxicating idea of being the one person who could reach him, bring him past his fears. The idea that he would change for me.

But that is dangerous thinking. I cannot change him. If I'm going to take this leap I must do so with my eyes open. He openly loathes what I am, and the fact that he does not - usually - apply his distaste to me doesn't lessen the constant cruelty of his words. I have let his proclamations pass, rarely confronting him. He is scarred in a way I will never fully understand, and I cannot make myself judge his pain. I only wish he would give me the same courtesy. Is it possible for us to have anything with that between us?

Does he even want anything? Other than the obvious. I think he must. Would he set aside his prejudices, his pain, for simple physical gratification?

No. The wounds on his skin are not his deepest pain. There is much about his suffering I can't fathom, but this at least I understand - the call of a desperately lonely heart. I wonder if he realizes how much he asks of me, that I am just as frightened as he is that I will let him down.

He is waiting for my answer, his eyes bright, his body tense. Yet there is hesitation in him, too, a certain something about the way he holds himself that tells me that despite his words, he isn't ready. I relax a fraction. He is looking for reassurance, not immediate action. It is safe to refuse him for this night at least.

I'm glad, relieved. I don't want him like this, made brave only by drink - though even as the thought crosses my mind, I wonder. That he has been drinking for some time is clear, but I cannot shake the sense that, despite the slumped posture and empty bottles, he knows exactly what he is doing. He is too cautious for the kind of debauchery that others revel in - too afraid to relax his control that much. The wine may have helped his courage, but he came to this on his own.

"I'm not sure we should," I hedge, but I let my eyes travel down his body, as my words put him off, to let him know I am tempted, that this is not a rejection. A tiny smirk quirks the corner of his mouth and I know he has gotten the message, but I am unprepared for the softness of his rough voice when he acknowledges me politely, "A conversation for another time." His manners, when he chooses to use them, are a constant surprise, tiny hints that he has a deeper capacity for gentleness than is immediately apparent. I turn my thoughts again quickly. Accept him as he is, or not at all. That must continue to be my rule. I can believe he is capable of gentleness, nobility, love, but I have seen that he is equally capable of cruelty, deception, and anger.

He raises his bottle to me one more time, and there is something about the gesture that is final, a dismissal. He has taken all the risk he will dare this night, and he wants me gone so he can think. I call Talon to my side and take my leave, but I pause just outside the mansion's door. Though it seems unlikely that anyone would choose this night of all nights to come for him, I worry. I look down at Talon, and he grins his doggy grin up at me, ears pricking to catch my orders.

"Stay, my love," I say, reaching down to scratch around his perked ears. "Stand guard until morning. Come home when he is up and moving again." He touches his tongue to my hand, even though I have just condemned him to a night spent outdoors on cold stone instead of in his soft bed by the fire. He throws himself gamely down on the stone, stretched across the door frame. He looks lazy, but I know he will rouse at the slightest hint of danger. I leave, feeling better and hoping Fenris won't resent the intrusion when he finds the dog in the morning.

I leave my door cracked when I go to bed, and sometime in the early dawn hours I hear the jingle of Talon's collar, the click of his nails on the stone as he scratches the door open, enters, and then shoulders it shut again. Not fully awake, I brace myself for his leap onto the bed. I expect him to curl against my side as always, but he drops something on my face before turning and flopping down beside me. Confused, I reach up and claw at the thing. It smells green, and my hand touches soft petals. I hold it up, blinking at it, but between the dim light and my own bleary eyes, I can't make out much. I drop the flower on the pillow next to me and fall back asleep almost at once.

The next time I wake it is to the smell of breakfast, and as I breathe it deeply in I catch the green scent again. I open my eyes and roll over to find I haven't destroyed the delicate thing, that it sat safely on the empty pillow next to mine. It is small, imperfect, a little spot of brown discoloring one of the petals, one of the leaves nibbled by some insect. Nothing like the huge, protected hothouse blooms my mother prefers. I know with certainty that this gift was plucked from the thick vines climbing one side of Fenris' dilapidated mansion. I pick up the tiny flower and put it to my lips. Then I close my eyes and let my head rest again. In a few minutes Talon will wake enough to scent breakfast, and then I will have to get up, but I will take this time while I can get it. Everything will be different today, I know it in my heart, and while I'm excited, I'm also a little afraid. Those two words changed everything, and now we have started a dance that can only lead to one conclusion. "Until now," he said to me last night, but the flower in my hand holds a different meaning. I can almost hear his voice, soft as it was last night, changing the words so that they become a promise. "Until then."


End file.
